


stars

by petalloso



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, space is nice to look at but you know so is each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 07:48:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8004292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petalloso/pseuds/petalloso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lance liked how his shadow was taller than he could ever be at a certain time of day, the a minor chord, and laughing. He liked the way a ball point pen skid smoothly across paper, stealing Pidge’s headphones, and the feel of petals between his fingers. He liked sleep, food, girls, and life.</p><p>Lance wasn’t in the business of denying himself life’s simple pleasures.</p><p>The only problem was, Keith was anything but simple, and Lance was still on the figuring out if his existence was pleasurable or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	stars

**Author's Note:**

> this has been in my drafts for so long

Lance liked ice pops, the ones that literally popped in his mouth and exploded into tingly sensations all over the roof of his mouth, down his throat and into his stomach when he swallowed. He liked firecrackers, even after that one time his sister had gotten one a little too close to his face in an attempt to burn his eyeballs out. He liked playing the strings of a makeshift guitar, the feeling of being warm beneath double blankets on a chilly morning, the press of a pebble in the palm of his hand, and pineapple juice in the can.

Lance liked how his shadow was taller than he could ever be at a certain time of day, the a minor chord, and laughing. He liked the way a ball point pen skid smoothly across paper, stealing Pidge’s headphones, and the feel of petals between his fingers. He liked sleep, food, girls, and life.

Lance wasn’t in the business of denying himself life’s simple pleasures.

The only problem was, Keith was anything but simple, and Lance was still on the figuring out if his existence was pleasurable or not.

Keith stole his socks, and for absolutely no valid reason, did not know how to do his own laundry. He had a stupid expression on his face at all hours of the day and slept so still and silent it actually sort of creeped Lance out. He had the memory of a gold fish, didn’t understand Lance’s jokes, and had hair way too soft to actually be real.

Lance thinks he’d better figure it out soon though, because it’s getting to be distracting.  

So he traps Keith against a wall with both palms pressed against it on either side of his head, and ignores the anxiousness in his stomach and the confused look on Keith’s face, for the better good of figuring it out.

“Do you wanna watch a star explode?” He says it more like a command than a question.

“What?”

“Star. Kaboom. With me.”

“Um, okay.”

Lance is satisfied with that lackluster reply, and so releases Keith from his trap and takes a few steps back. He watches as Keith rubs his shoulder, not looking at him.

“Like, now?”

“Yes, now!” Lance exclaims. “When else?”

“Is there one exploding right now?”

“I checked, of course,” Lance says, reaching out to grasp Keith around the wrist, pulling him away from where he still lingers in that spot against the wall. Keith lets him drag him down the hall and to the outlook.

Lance had already set it up. Not with much, mind, and even if Keith had declined he would have just come to watch himself, maybe ask Pidge to come along, too. But he’d laid out a small blanket, big enough only for the two of them, and had scattered four pillow he’d stole from Hunk’s infinite supply of them.

He leads Keith to the set up, plops down with little grace and looks up at Keith to do the same. Keith just stands there a moment, looking like he’s trying to figure something out, before shaking his head and sitting down beside Lance.

Lance doesn’t bother saying anything. He actually enjoys the silence, and knows Keith doesn’t mind it either. They look not at each other, but out to the stars, waiting for the one furthest away to die.

It happens after just a few minutes of watching. Lance wonders what it must feel like, to be outside in space and not protected by the shield of the castle. He wonders if the explosion it powerful enough to crush everything in his chest, to destroy the worlds that are too close to its death.

It’s beautiful in a horrific way. Lance knows logically that they are safe this far away, protected, but watching it is something else, and it sends shivers down his spine, goosebumps raising. Bubbles of orange and yellow and red rise up from the surface, like the expansion of a chest, but it keeps breathing, does not inhale, growing and growing until each bubble gets so large that they must not be possible to hold any longer. And then they hold, a moment longer than he thought possible, and then they let go.

It’s blue, and then it’s black, and then it’s red and purple and colors he hasn’t seen before. All the bits and pieces of what once was living fly across the space. He can almost see a ripple in the blackness of it all.

Lance looks to his right, eyes catching first on just how close their pinkies are to touching beside each other, then to Keith. It makes his face warm in a way he can’t decipher from anger and frustration or something else entirely. The result of said combination is an angry accusation masking something otherwise.

“How are you like that?”

“Like what?” Keith is still looking at the sky. His face is illuminated by the light of the exploding star. Lance makes a general gesture with his hands, frustrated.

“That doesn’t really tell me anything, Lance.” He is still watching the remnants of the star.

“Your face.”

Keith raises an eyebrow and finally looks to him. “My face.”

“Yeah, your face.”

“Is what?”

“I don’t know, nice. It’s nice.”

Keith doesn’t seem to get it. It takes a moment for any reaction outside of a blank stare to come from him. Lance can’t quite tell from the lighting, but he imagines there is a new tint to his paler cheeks. Finally, the corner of his mouth twitches in a smile, and it makes Lance sort of want to punch him and sort of want to wipe it off with his own.

“Thanks. Your face is nice, too, I guess.”

Lance actually laughs at that, turning away. “I figured it out,” he says to himself.

“Figured what out?”

Lance closes the space between their pinky fingers, grabbing Keith’s hand entirely and holding it tight.

“You’re a problem, but not a bad one.”

“Flattering,” Keith says, but he doesn’t pull away.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!


End file.
